Full Blooded (Jessica McClain #1) 2

My brother, seated next to him, had assumed a similar vigil, most likely waiting to see which wolf’s neck he’d have to snap first. I couldn’t tell which wolf had issued the challenge, because my senses were stuck on werewolf testosterone overload. Likely it was more than one. And because there were so many wolves in here, I was almost certain no one could pin an accurate read on the aggressor.

James stepped forward, coming shoulder to shoulder with me.

His voice was strong and clear. “Jessica is not weak. I’ve seen the results of her fight firsthand. Those of you who perceive her to be an easy target will be sadly mistaken. From this day forth, she will be protected by the Rights of Laws of this Pack—to the death.” His eyes targeted certain wolves, and they dropped their gazes one after the other. “I vow it in my name.” He clapped a fist to his chest above his heart.

There was an immediate stirring.

The Rights of Laws was our bible. It contained all of our lore, passed down through generations. It was a physical text outlining the ways of the wolf, dating back several thousand years. When my father had become Alpha it had been entrusted to him, though to my knowledge it had been damaged in a fire more than three hundred years before he’d inherited it. I’d never seen the book, but it was said chunks of text were missing and some pages had been burned and charred beyond recognition.

A Primary Law stated that no werewolf, with the exception of the Alpha, or at the Alpha’s directive, could attack another werewolf without just cause, outside of a challenge to Pack status. Pack challenges were their own event, and treated with great ceremony. The penalty for attacking without provocation was death. No in-betweens, just plain death. If a wolf broke this law, his punishment would be meted out by the Alpha, or a wolf designated by the Alpha.

James had just in effect told a roomful of wolves—his Pack mates—that he would kill any wolf who chose to lash out at me without just cause. It was a heavy threat since James was the second most powerful wolf in the Pack. His strength and killing prowess were legendary.

My father gave a curt nod of approval to James, before he added, “There will be no Pack challenges issued against my daughter until the matter of the dead rogue is addressed. There will be no exceptions. A direct threat against my daughter, by this rogue, will be treated as it should—as a threat against Pack.”

The buzzing in the room reached a feverish peak. Wolves hated change and their body language clearly showed it. Many tensed, growling under their breath, shuffling their feet. They weren’t going to be won over easily, if at all.

There was a wisp against my consciousness. Don’t worry, Jess, Tyler said softly. Even if it doesn’t look that way, the majority of us are behind you and will protect you no matter the cost.

Won’t the cost be too much, Tyler? I couldn’t bear to think of something happening to my brother or father, to any of them, because of me.

That’s what Pack Law dictates, Jess. And that’s what we’ll do.

I think someone forgot to tell the wolf who attacked me last night that he was bound by Pack Law.

He wasn’t one of ours. We don’t know who he is yet, but Devon’s working on it. He was definitely a rogue, but there’s a good chance he was hired by someone outside of any Pack.

That was news. For the first time I noticed Devon with his laptop in the corner of the table. Devon Lee was the resident computer wiz and one of my father’s top advisors. He wasn’t a wolf, he was an Essential. I had no doubt that given enough time he’d come up with the rogue’s missing identity. He had a brilliant mind for solving issues.

Rogue wolves were extremely dangerous. They were wolves who’d been thrown out of a previous Pack because they couldn’t play well with others, or had broken some law—which really meant they couldn’t play well with others. Some rogues, like Hank, moved to another Pack immediately, which was allowed if the new Alpha deemed them worthy. If they were accepted, they were given another chance to play by the rules.

The Rights of Laws mandated that rogue wolves be given a one-year respite from harm so they could rehabilitate into a more suitable Pack. Most rogues chose a new Pack, because if they didn’t, within a year to the day, they had a standing kill order on their heads. I didn’t know the exact number of rogues now on the run, but I assumed, at the very least, it was in the double digits. In the old days, assimilation into a new Pack worked, these days it wasn’t a sure thing. A rogue who chose to stay a rogue on purpose had few redeeming qualities.

And anyone who would hire a rogue to do their dirty work was also no friend of Pack. It was a severe crime in our world, and would be enough of a catalyst to start a war with the Sect responsible.

My father commanded the room again, effectively cutting off any rebuttals, as well as my internal conversation with my brother. “This Pack has been attacked by an outsider—a rogue wolf. A wolf who chose not to live by our rules. Our laws state this is a direct threat to all of us, and it will predispose any other action until it is resolved. There will be no further discussions about it.”

There were some surprising murmurs of agreement, and some nodding. I hadn’t thought any wolf would agree. A little relief ran through me until I heard a chair scrape back.

Hank stood with a snarl and pointed an angry finger at me. “How do we know this rogue wasn’t just one of her jilted lovers gone bad? Huh? Someone she got tired of and decided to kill? There’s been no proof she was attacked in the first place, and there’s been no proof that the wolf in question was even a rogue.”

Leave it to Hank to start us off with a bang. He had some gargantuan balls—he and Ray should have a tea party sometime. They’d bond over their shared hatred.

Another wolf piped in on Hank’s heels, a voice I recognized as Rich Garley. Hank had officially opened the floodgates. Rich was one of the older wolves seated at the conference table. He’d spent time at the Compound during my early years, but now ran a small successful equipment business in South Dakota, where he spent nearly a hundred percent of his time. He wisely stayed in his seat. “Callum, I respect what you’re saying here. But do we really know for sure what happened last night? From what I understand, the presumed rogue wolf in question has not been identified. I will stand by you, but I am unwilling to wage a war without some physical proof or complete certainty that this was a direct attack on Pack.”

A younger wolf with shaggy brown hair and a decidedly aggressive edge boldly stepped forward. “How do we even know for sure if a female can be Pack? Why would we stick our necks out for her without proof she’s Pack?”

My father snarled. The insolent wolf’s eyes widened and dropped, all aggression in his features died in an instant, his surliness replaced by a pandering look. In his wolf form, he would’ve nipped my father’s mouth with his tail between his legs. His indiscretion would not be forgotten.

Served the bastard right.

My father snapped his teeth fiercely. “Malcolm, because you are a relatively young wolf, and aren’t familiar with our laws due to your residence off Compound”—a low noise issued from the back of his throat, alerting the young Malcolm to what he should’ve known anyway—“I will forgive your indiscretion. This time.”

Malcolm squeaked a response.

“A child born directly to the Alpha is Pack by bloodline.” My father turned to the room, his voice echoing with power, making every syllable jump. “It has been so since the beginning of our existence. My children need not prove alliance, it is given freely. They need not swear to the Pack. It matters naught if Jessica is female. My blood flows through her veins. She is my kin. She is Pack.”

Hank still stood, a blatant disrespect to his Alpha. James growled and took a mock step toward him.

Hank sat down with a thump.

“Jessica,” James declared, looking fierce as yellow light shot across his irises, “was attacked last night without provocation by a rogue wolf. I saw him myself. She was injured, but had already killed the wolf on her own.” He dared anyone to challenge him. “The rogue was in full wolf form during the attack. He sprang without warning the moment she entered her apartment. Jessica should be dead by all accounts. It was a cowardly show of aggression, beneath us as a race, but she bested the wolf on her own and won”—he gave a big pause—“in human form.”

Glances whipped toward me immediately, appraising. Most were skeptical. James hadn’t mentioned the word “Lycan” and I had no idea if any of them were thinking it. I was a girl. How could I beat a werewolf as a human? Lycan was likely far from their thoughts, but they were thinking of something, there was no doubt.

The door cracked open behind me. Marcy delivering the water.

Before I could shoo her away, James spun on his heel too fast to track. He scooped Marcy around the middle and pounded out of the room, slamming the door firmly behind him.

All I’d heard from Marcy’s retreating body was a diminutive “Ooof.”

My father ignored the brief interruption, and instead motioned me over to him with a quick nod of his head.

Okay, then.

Danny quickly vacated his seat as I made my way around the table. Wolves parted aggressively, but kept themselves under control. My wolf was issuing a low-level continuous growl as we moved through the room. She was on the defense, ready to protect us. I calmly took the chair on my father’s left, Tyler on his right.

Our seating arrangement presented a fierce showing of where we stood in Pack.

The faces around the table, to my surprise, displayed both acceptance and rejection. Once again, I hadn’t been expecting anything positive.

My gaze followed James as he strode back into the room and without a sound paced around the table and stood behind my chair, legs splayed wide, his wrists clasped in front of him. His fighting stance.

Having the support of many significant wolves would help eliminate some of the dissension, but any wolf who felt my position would affect their place in the pecking order would choose to fight me eventually no matter who supported me, or why. And when the official status challenges came, it would be me fighting alone. Not even my dad could circumvent those laws.